


Tales from Tal'dorei

by OhMaven



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DnD Backstory, Gen, emon - Freeform, smol rogue shenanigans, the chroma conclave - Freeform, you know who wins that first battle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMaven/pseuds/OhMaven
Summary: a series of drabbles featuring my character from the Tal'dorei campaign I play in; with guest appearances from certain Emon-centric characters from Critical Role, and PCs and NPCs from the campaign itself.





	1. Stars

It was well past bedtime, but that didn’t stop her from sitting in the wide sill of her window, feet dangling free in the night air. There was nothing more beautiful than Emon at night; of this, the six year old was  _ certain _ . She could just see the skyline of the Cloudtop District from here, the rose-orange hues of sunset still framing the rooftops while the rest of the sky had given in to the inky dark of night. The stars were only a pinprick in the hazy night sky, but below Cora’s swinging feet, the city managed to pulse with life.   
  
Across the street, the soft glow of a lantern bloomed in the dark window; not too far away from that, a flower seller was packing up her cart. The low murmurs of voices drifted high on the warm summer breeze, the words she couldn’t understand as sticky against her bare legs as the moisture in the heavy air. ( _ Humidity _ , her mother called it, in that special voice she used when she got to teach Cora new words.)

Even the uglier parts of city life seemed lovelier under the cover of dark; the garbage and refuse that built up in the gutters of the streets were smudged into the blackness of the cobblestones, and the deep pock marks and wrinkles in the face of the old beggar who sat on her street’s corner transformed into shadows and mysteries. She could sit here and watch for  _ hours _ , until the last light of the day was gone, and lanterns and torches extinguished, and her human eyes strained with the effort. She  _ could _ , if only she didn’t get  _ caught. _

Papa’s footsteps warned her of his approach long before he spoke; he did  _ not _ have Mama’s light tread, and if Cora wanted to she could dive out of the window and under the covers in time to pretend she’d been sleeping. (He did not have Mama’s  _ sharp eyes _ , either.) She didn’t move, though, waiting for him to push open the heavy door to her room. It was always nice to be caught at mischief by her father, because Papa’s time was precious, and Cora was selfish enough to enjoy stealing his attention whenever she could.

“Cora?” His voice was low, and soft; always a gentle timbre. She liked it best when he read bedtime stories, or whispered ghost stories on snowy nights by the fire. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”   
  
They both  _ knew _ that she should be, but Cora giggled anyway, carefully swinging her legs back over the sill. Her parents worried that she’d fall right out of her window someday and crack her head right open (or that’s what Mama liked to tell her, anyway.) It was one of the rare instances when Cora thought her mother was  _ wrong _ . As she swung her body inward to face her father, he crossed the room and caught her lightly around the middle. She giggled again as he gently tossed her into the bed she’d abandoned long enough ago that the blankets were no longer warm.   
  
“Alright, now,” her father was saying as she wriggled back into her blankets, and he straightened them around her. “ _ This _ time you have to go to sleep. It’s late, and your mother will have you up early in the morning for your lessons.”   
  
Cora wrinkled her nose at the prospect of  _ lessons _ . She liked to learn, but she rarely enjoyed doing so when someone  _ else _ was telling her what she had to study. Papa leaned in and poked her nose, reducing her to giggles yet again, though his answering smile was a little more stern this time. “None of that - your mother knows more about things than just about anyone, and you won’t learn better from anyone else.”   
  
She knew her father was right - Mama had studied in a library a far, far, ways off in her home country. She could name all the stars in the sky, and all the plants in the garden, and all the noble houses in just about every sovereign realm -- but that didn’t make lessons more  _ interesting _ .    
  
Her father leaned in to kiss her forehead and, sensing he was about to leave, Cora scrambled for his hand. “Papa! Wait! Do the star magic?  _ Pleeease? _ ”   
  
They both looked up to Cora’s ceiling, carefully painted in an exact replica of the night sky by her mother, each constellation perfect and clear. With his free hand, her father gestured at the ceiling, and mumbled familiar - and yet unknown - words. Lights gently drifted upwards from his fingertips, bobbing obediently into place with the painted stars, forming a soft glow of starlight overhead.   
  
“There you are, darling.  _ Now _ it’s time for sleep.” He leaned into kiss her forehead again, and this time Cora let him, her heavy eyes transfixed on the soft glow of magic above, an expression of contentment on her features as she slowly drifted to sleep.


	2. Glorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By far, the best part of the trip was the time they spent in Gilmore’s Glorious Goods. While Mama haggled with the proprietor, Cora was free to browse (“look, don’t touch”) the fantastical objects lining the shelves. Despite her mother’s admonition, Cora always found something to touch.

Market Day was Cora’s  _ favorite _ day of the week; it was the only day her mother let her get away with shorter lessons, and the walk from their home in the Erudite Quarter to the Promenade was one of the most colorful displays she got to see. Their neighborhood gave way from crowded booksellers and cramped student housing to the wider lanes and vivid displays of Abdar’s Promenade. Here, Mama would make the purchases for the household; following the list of Papa’s many components, stocking up on the dry goods and spices she couldn’t find at the butcher’s shop or vegetable stands, and procuring a weekly treat for Cora.

By far, the best part of the trip was the time they spent in Gilmore’s Glorious Goods. While Mama haggled with the proprietor, Cora was free to browse (“look, don’t touch”) the fantastical objects lining the shelves. Despite her mother’s admonition, Cora  _ always _ found something to touch.

Even better, now that she was eight years old and rather grown, she no longer had to hold her mother’s hand as they wound through the market to their very first stop. Cora could wind and dart between people to stay several steps ahead of Mama, eyes scanning the shops for the vivid purple that  _ always _ marked Gilmore’s. (She could read, of course, but she was quite taken with the  _ prettiness _ of the shop.) Inevitably, Mama would somehow always be two steps ahead, beating her to the door with a knowing smile and a slight wink.

Someday, Cora was going to discover where her mother had learned to be so  _ fast _ .

As always, when Mama pushed open the door to the shop, the owner himself was waiting behind the counter. The smile he gave her was always a  _ little _ brighter than the ones the customers who walked in after them received, and Mama’s tone was warmer than she used when she spoke to anyone else (except Papa, of course.)

“Csilla, it is a  _ pleasure _ to see you, as always.” The tall man would greet, and the way he pronounced Mama’s name always brought a sparkle to her eyes, as she returned the greeting. Cora had heard her tell Papa once, that Shaun Gilmore was the only person in the city who’d  _ ever _ bothered to learn to say her name correctly.    
  
While the adults spoke, Cora turned away to look at the shelves; there were all kinds of beautiful things - most of which she’d never seen before, and couldn’t name - but the thing she liked  _ best _ about this shop was that no matter what Gilmore enchanted, it was pretty. Plain, perhaps, on occasion but well-proportioned or well-made. Many of the arcanists back in their neighborhood didn’t bother with that, and it made Cora respect the loud, cheerful, man all that much more.

Today, something in particular caught her eye - a silver chain, as delicate and beautiful as the ones her mother wore, with a heavy red-and-silver pendant. It was beautiful, and she could practically  _ feel _ the magic radiating from it. Despite herself, Cora pressed the tips of her fingers to the glass display case.

“Cora? What are you looking at?” Mama’s hand settled on her shoulder, pulling her gently away - at least enough that her fingers fell away from the glass. (Mama  _ hated _ smudged glass.) 

Cora could only point to the necklace, as her mother used her sleeve to rub away the fingerprints. “Can this be my treat this week?”

Mama looked startled, her hand returning to Cora’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, that’s a little  _ expensive _ for a treat. Besides, it’s not a regular necklace, or this isn’t Gilmore’s Glorious Goods.”   
  
“Which it most certainly  _ is _ .” The cheerful, dramatic, voice of Mr. Gilmore interrupted their conversation, and Cora turned to grin at the man. The first time she’d called him  _ mister _ he’d looked horrified and told her he wasn’t old enough for all  _ that _ , but he always seemed to be the smartest, wisest, adult in the room - so she thought it fit. “Your daughter has expensive tastes, Csilla.”   
  
Mama wrinkled her nose, but her lips had stretched into a grin. “She certainly does.”   
  
“Mr. Gilmore - what does it  _ do _ ?” Cora wanted to know, leaning closer to the adults. “It’s so very pretty.”

This time it was Gilmore who wrinkled his nose, but he made that small sound adults did whenever they were resigned to her behavior. “That is what we call a Periapt of Wound Closure - it means if you get hurt badly enough, it will keep you safe.”   
  
His words had gotten a little awkward towards the end, the way adults sometimes did when they didn’t want to scare a child. Cora merely nodded, and reached for her mother’s hand. They both seemed relieved when she didn’t press the matter further, and Mama even let her carry the basket full of special items from the shop as they walked away. When she asked what Cora would like for her treat, Cora settled for a sweet pastry from the bakery at the end of the street.   
  



	3. Amulet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama laughed slightly, and carefully removed her hand from Cora’s. Instead, she took hold of the fine chain that hung around her neck, and lifted it over her head - offering the end of it to Cora. The girl took the amulet in both hands, letting it sit flat in both of her palms.
> 
> “Do you know what this is, Cora?”

It was very,  _ very _ , rare to hear her parents arguing.

Cora could probably count on one hand the number of times it had happened, and she hated each and every one. Tonight, there had been a strained silence over supper, and it now it was clear that they had simply been waiting for her to go to sleep. Only, Cora  _ couldn’t _ sleep. She lay in the dark, staring at the faint outlines of stars on her ceiling, and  _ wished _ they’d stop. It was impossible to make out their words, but the tone was clear enough.

After a few minutes, Cora climbed out of bed and opened her window, peering into the murky streets below. There was still a heavy chill on the air - Winter’s Crest having only passed by a few weeks - but to Cora it was preferable to the stifling air of her room and the sounds of her parents’ disagreement. This was their worst argument that the girl could ever recall in her ten years of life (nearly eleven, actually,) and she knew it was because of  _ her _ . Cora had caught her mother writing a letter to the grand library she’d studied in before moving to Tal’dorei; and she suspected that her mother wanted to send her away to study there, too.

Wildemount sounded so terribly far away, and Cora had decided she didn’t want to ask her mother about it.

So she stayed in the window, watching the city settle in for the night, feeling as though the entire word was caught in that moment  _ right _ before everything changed. She was still sitting there, an hour later, when the door to her bedroom opened. It was Mama, she knew, for she’d have heard her father’s footsteps in the corridor. Cora expected her mother to tell her it was time for bed, but instead she joined her in the window.   
  
“I heard you fighting,” Cora admitted, bumping her heel awkwardly against the stone side of their house.   
  
There was a moment of silence, as Mama gathered her thoughts. It was something Papa did often, but not something Cora was used to seeing in her mother. “I’m sorry you heard that,” she finally said, bracing her forearms against the sill. “Sometimes, your father and I disagree about things.”   
  
“Are you going to send me away?” The words tumbled out, breathless, before Cora could stop them. She knotted her fingers in her nightgown.   
  
“Send you away? Ah, you saw the letter.” Mama shook her head. “No. I wanted you to study at the Archive, in Zadash, as I did. Your father doesn’t think you should go so far from home, so young, and truly he is right.”   
  
Despite the assurance, Cora could feel the regret in her mother - the sadness. She’d left so much behind when she’d traveled to Tal’dorei, and had so little of her life from before to cling to. It must have been a long-time dream, to see her daughter in the same halls she had once walked. Cora reached over, and wrapped her chilled fingers around her mother’s hand, and squeezed them tightly. “Maybe we can go there together, someday?”

Mama laughed slightly, and carefully removed her hand from Cora’s. Instead, she took hold of the fine chain that hung around her neck, and lifted it over her head - offering the end of it to Cora. The girl took the amulet in both hands, letting it sit flat in both of her palms.

“Do you know what this is, Cora?” Her tone was soft, but carried the faint air she had about her whenever they were doing their lessons. (Specifically, the firm tone she used whenever Cora complained about having to learn  _ Draconic _ of all things.) So Cora studied the amulet for a long time - it was...an eye?   
  
She shook her head.   
  
“This is the Eye of the Knowing Mistress,” Mama said quietly. “She is  _ so _ wise, and her eye sees all.”   
  
Cora wasn’t sure how this was relevant to their conversation, but she nodded dutifully and offered the amulet back to her mother. Instead, Mama wrapped Cora’s own fingers around it.   
  
“Keep it.” Her smile now was tired, and a little sad. “Whenever I’m not watching you, the Knowing Mistress  _ is _ , and she will keep you safe. You’ll never have to be alone.”   
  
_ Like I was _ .   
  
Those words went unspoken, but Cora knew they were there, hanging on her mother’s lips. Mama was  _ lonely _ sometimes. It was why she visited Shaun Gilmore every week, even when she didn’t have anything to purchase. It was why she went to the same butcher, even though there were less expensive ones in other parts of town. Cora looped the chain over her neck.   
  
“I’ll never take it off, Mama.” She smiled brightly at her mother, wishing to make the sadness in the lines of her face disappear.   
  
Mama didn’t smile, though. “Promise?”   
  
“I promise.” Cora carefully scooted out of the window, bracing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “I also promise to go to sleep, this time.”   
  
Now Mama  _ did _ laugh, and that was the sound Cora held on to as she drifted, finally, to sleep.


	4. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sound, the chaos, was overwhelming - but less so than the silence that suddenly descended as Cora shoved between two adult men and found herself with enough room to see the massive dragon perched on the wall just above the stage. She was still far enough back to feel distant - but even from here, Cora knew that it was massive.

The late-afternoon sun burned warm into Cora’s shoulders as she dropped over the wall that surrounded her family’s tiny garden; her boots sinking into the slush that littered the narrow alley between the back gardens of the homes in this neighborhood. She had to hurry, if she hoped to reach the Cloudtop District (and sneak in) before dusk, and the rumored  _ announcement _ . Mama would be furious - she’d told Cora in no uncertain terms to stay home, when the messenger from Papa had arrived and said he had business in the Cloudtop District that evening. How could anyone be expected to  _ listen _ when there was such exciting news afoot?   
  
Besides. Cora was  _ eleven _ now, and she’d been mapping the streets of Emon on her own for nearly two years. She could sneak in, catch the announcement, and be home in time for bed.

So she wrapped her new coat tightly around her body, and sprinted through the half-melted snow, allowing the sun to warm her (and only slipping once or twice.) Emon was a large enough city that it wasn’t a particularly  _ short _ journey, but a girl who knew the city (and it’s short-cuts) well could cut down a bit on that travel time - especially if she ran most of the way. So she did, enjoying the slight burn in her lungs, and the sting of cold air in her throat, as she dodged and weaved through students, and arcanists, and street-hagglers.

She ran until she reached her mother’s favorite butcher shop, where several weeks ago Cora had noticed something  _ interesting _ . It wasn’t difficult to melt into the shadows of the buildings as the sun began to set, and the dim, muted, colors of dusk began to paint her surroundings. She squeezed between one shop and another, until she stumbled out behind them at the base of the wall that surrounded the Cloudtop District. Cora had been inside on several occasions, but  _ always _ with her parents, and she wasn’t sure she’d be allowed in on her own. Luckily, the last time her mother had visited the butcher for tea, Cora had been allowed to play in  _ his _ back garden, and while climbing the fruit tree he kept, she’d seen an odd shadow at the base of the wall, near a guard tower.   
  
Upon inspection now, Cora realized it was a small hole. It would be  _ too _ small for an adult to wriggle through, even if that adult was a halfling or a dwarf. Even for her, she suspected it would be a tight squeeze - but she probably  _ could _ make it through.

Several minutes, and one very torn stocking, later Cora squeezed through to the Cloudtop District. She didn’t have to wonder where this announcement her father had referred to would be held - the square was  _ packed _ with more people than she’d ever seen in the district, and no one paid any mind to a quiet middle-class child (rumpled or not). It was easy to weave - more slowly this time - into the crowd of people, paying equally rapt attention to the dignitaries on the platform, and the wizards of the Alabaster Lyceum, where her father would be. 

Cora bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet, as true dusk settled around those gathered, and a man she could only imagine as Sovereign Uriel stood; the adults around her straightened somewhat, eager for their ruler’s words. Although the ruler’s words were less interesting than Cora had hoped, the reactions of the crowd were  _ not. _ The adults around her became more and more restless, shifting their weight uneasily - and murmuring as confirmation of the death of Riskel Daxio was given. Cora couldn’t focus on any one person around her, gaze flicking from one adult to another as she judged their disappointment, or wariness, or confusion; and then Uriel’s tone changed, and the stunned silence returned. Cora leaned forward on the balls of her feet, hoping to see the man better, but a heavy hand caught her shoulder and forced her heels back to the ground.

“Cora, I told you not to come.” Mama’s voice was soft, but the disappointment was heavy in it; heavier, even, than her hand on Cora’s shoulder. So she didn’t argue when her mother began to pull her away from the crowd - even though she wanted to stay. Instead, she turned her head to look up into her mother’s pinched, worried, features.   
  
“Mama, what is he saying?” Her own voice was low, not wishing to disturb those around them, who seemed to be hanging on Uriel’s every word. Mama kept a firm, but gentle grip on Cora’s shoulder as they back out of the crowd, to the fringes.   
  
“He is abdicating. Do you remember what that means?” Mama sounded distracted, her eyes flitting several places in the span of seconds; she seemed tense.   
  
Cora nodded slowly. “He won’t be our Sovereign anymore?”   
  
They stopped moving, and Cora thought Mama was going to answer - but whatever Csilla was going to say, was cut off by several loud bells, and the sudden movement of people around them. Instinctively, Cora reached for her mother’s skirt, startled by the sudden tension in the air/   
  
“Mama-” her mother gave her no time to finish the thought; her grip turned hard and panicked and she shoved Cora forward, away from the crowd with a wordless cry that was drowned out by the sharp cracking of  _ stone _ . Cora looked up, and felt her face go as white as the massive beast shattered the Ivory Tower that had been her favorite landmark for the last two years. “ _ Mama _ -”   
  
“Cora,  _ go _ !” Her mother’s hand was hard against her shoulder, this time releasing her in a forceful shove. She staggered forward a few steps before she caught her balance, and whipped around desperate to locate her mother - or, or  _ Papa _ \- in the suddenly panicked crowd.   
  
“ _ Mama _ !” She knew her scream as as desperate, and terrified, as that of everyone else around her; but Cora felt rooted to the spot, frantically shoving through the crowd, dodging larger bodies as she tried to go back to the last place she had seen her mother. “ _ Mama come  _ ** _back_ ** !!”

The sound, the  _ chaos _ , was overwhelming - but less so than the silence that suddenly descended as Cora shoved between two adult men and found herself with enough room to see the massive dragon perched on the wall just above the stage. She was still far enough back to feel distant - but even from here, Cora knew that it was  _ massive _ . The quivering started in her knees, and by the time she registered hands on either side of her waist, Cora was too far gone in her own terror to even squeak or turn to see who was holding her.

“Keep still, Cora.” The steady voice that finally broke through the panic was her mother’s, the faint breathlessness a product of how fast they were moving, and the additional weight of her daughter in her arms. “We’re almost there.”

Ahead, Cora could see an open door, and a man frantically gesturing to them; she felt her mother turn slightly to look behind, felt the slight tremble in her hands, and heard the soft “ _ Holy Shit _ .”

  
That was the last thing she knew of her mother, before she felt those strong, capable, hands launching her towards the stranger; felt his chest and chin collide with her body as they staggered back into the doorway. The door slammed shut in front of Cora’s eyes, and then she was being turned and shoved into the floor

Outside, all they heard was screaming;  _ wheezing _ . A few of the others crammed into the small living room coughed.   
  
Cora squeezed her eyes shut, and refused to weep against the rough floorboard pressed into her cheek. All the screaming combined managed to sound like her mother, and she didn’t even know what had happened, or why.   
  
Above her, the strange man petted her hair, and whispered repeated apologies.


End file.
